Works Every Time
by Kudalyn
Summary: Collection of drabbles and one-shots, set before and after HTTYD2.
1. Works Every Time

_Hello! Long time no write! Decided to start posting a few things here, only things I deem worthy, hah. Starting with this semi-recent drabble I wrote a while ago. Might keep this story/marker as the spot to post any future HTTYD drabbles I write. _

_Please keep in mind - I post everything first and foremost to my Tumblr, under the same username as this one. So that said, please enjoy!_

* * *

"Astrid, honey, please."

"Hm?"

"Astrid, this is completely unnecessary!"

Her only reply was patting the side of Stormfly's neck, the dragon letting out a happy screech as Hiccup dangled helplessly from the dragon's claws.

"Astrid!"

"What was that, Hiccup? You said you'd change your mind and let me come on the expedition to Left Sock?"

"You know that I can't - aaaAAAHHHWHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!"

Stormfly had released one of her claws, letting go of Hiccup's arm and making him dangle by his leg. Hiccup scrambled to try and pull himself up to grab onto the Nadder's claws.

Miles down below, Toothless was following the trio around Berk on foot, making all sorts of angry and very worried noises. Astrid had swooped in on Hiccup unaware as he was talking to one of the emissaries from Left Sock, snatching him away mid-conversation. He hadn't been saddled on Toothless, the Night Fury having been walking at his side.

Toothless let out a particularly loud squawk as Stormfly and Astrid made a little loop, tossing Hiccup in the air like a ragdoll and catching him again by both arms.

"Astrid I swear - If you don't put me down right now-!"

"Changed your mind yet?"

"You know I can't do that! Left Sock has very strict rules against women from other tribes -"

"Well, it's a good thing that my boyfriend is the Chief's son then, isn't it? It wouldn't hurt to bend a few rules now and then, right?"

"ASTRID!"

Astrid merely signalled to Stormfly to do another loop, Hiccup flailing and screaming in a very undignified manner before being caught by his legs again.

"By Thor's name, this isn't fair! If I had my flight suit on-!"

"It's a good thing that you broke some of the straps in the last test flight you took, isn't it?" Astrid said cheerily over the side of her dragon, straightening up with a smug expression on her face.

"FRIGGA'S FROZEN TITS, ASTRID!" Hiccup roared, gesturing angrily to the ground soaring below him. Looking down, he could see the villagers assembling in the town square, attracted to the commotion. He thought he saw his father and Gobber leaning against one another roaring in laughter, but he couldn't hear anything but Astrid over the whistling of the wind in his ears.

And he had been doing such a good job keeping up his appearance in front of the emissaries from the other tribe, too.

"So, Hiccup? Do we have a deal?"

"WHAT DEAL?! There's nothing I can do!"

Astrid sat straight up, a odd expression on her face.

Hiccup had seen it a few times before. He knew what was coming next.

"Astrid. Astrid don't. Astrid don't do it!"

"Stormfly -"

"ASTRID PLEASE!"

" - Drop it!"

With a happy chirp, Stormfly let go of Hiccup, the poor boy plummeting towards earth. In any other situation, he'd have been much more calm. But with his flight suit out of commission and his trusty dragon screeching at him in panic from the rapidly approaching ground, Hiccup could only do one thing.

He screamed.

"OKAY! OKAY! I'LL TRY TO CHANGE THEIR MIND! JUST CATCH ME, PLEASE CATCH ME!"

Hiccup only fell for a few short moments more before he felt strong dragon claws latch around his shoulders one more time, Stormfly warbling happily at Astrid's praise.

Hiccup gulped down a few breaths, willing his stomach to catch up with the rest of him.

"See? I knew we could come to an agreement!" Astrid called smugly from atop her dragon.

Hiccup only groaned.


	2. Hard Times and New Chances

_Hey! Wrote this in one sitting with only myself to proofread, so sorry if there's any grammar errors or run on sentences and the like. I had this idea rattling around in my head, and I had a chance to sit down and write it all out in one go._

_It's a what-if AU of both HTTYD 1 and 2 - what if Hiccup had never shot down and met Toothless? What would be different? How else could they possibly meet, if they were meant to? And how would their relationship be different?_

_Posted this to Tumblr as well!_

* * *

My name is Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third.

A name that I alone carry. Seeing as how I'm the last of the line to carry it.

It's been three years since he came. A madman called Drago Bludvist, who controlled dragons like they were children's toys, and with the power his Bewilderbeast, the Alpha dragon, at his beck and call…

We were no match.

Even with our years of fighting dragons, raid after raid that ravaged our land and crippled our food supply, we were nothing before the feet of the Bewilderbeast. Mere ants that scampered about beneath it, begging to be crushed.

There were so many dragons. Scores more then even the largest dragon raid in Berk's history. We should have known, seen the signs. It was suspicious when the raids had suddenly stopped, not a scale to be seen of the beasts for nearly three days in a row.

We took it as a blessing from the Gods. It was more like a premonition of death.

We fought our hardest. My father… the Chief. Gods, did he fight. He fought til' his last breath. It took three of Bludvist's armoured dragons to finally take him down, their steel plates deflecting his weapons effortlessly.

I tried, I really did. But… even with my inventions, the ones my dad actually did let me finish and use during the raids… I'm no fighter. I've accepted that years ago, even before Astrid won during Dragon training.

Oh Gods, Astrid.

I haven't seen her since we were scattered.

After my father was killed, Bludvist gave us an ultimatum. Join his army of dragon trappers, or perish.

Of course, being Vikings, we chose to fight.

Not many of us survived. Mothers, children and the elders had already been evacuated when Bludvist's army was spotted on the horizon. Hard to hide an armada large enough to blot out the sun when you have an Elder perched on the highest peak of the village.

Astrid stayed to fight, of course. I wouldn't have expected any different. All the adults my age did.

Fishlegs didn't make it. He was never much of a fighter, but he put up a damn good fight. He had learned how to use those strong arms of his, but in the end, nothing can survive after taking a Gronkle blast to the stomach.

The twins… Ruffnut was the first to die. She shielded her brother from a Zippleback explosion. She survived the initial blast, but she died a few hours later, the wound being too deep. Tuffnut fought like a madman after that, rage clouding his senses. He didn't last long after that.

Snotlout survived, I think. He was actually pretty sensible during the battle, having matured with age, and had become a fine Viking. He almost died, taking a good gash to the side pushing me out of the way of a Nightmare.

I owe him my life, but I haven't seen him since the last survivors of Berk managed to flee the smouldering, ice-encased remains of our ancestral home.

Astrid was one of the survivors, thank Gods. Last thing I saw of her was her golden hair shining in the early dawn, on a different boat than I was, as we tried to escape on our last remaining longboats.

We didn't want to. But we had to. Survive, that is. Gobber and Spitelout had fought over it for hours, both sharing the spot of second-in-command. Spitelout because of lineage, and Gobber because of his long-term friendship with the Chief and his son.

I… I didn't want any of it. They tried to get me to be acting Chief but… how? How could I - all six feet of awkward, freckled,_ me_ \- possibly be Chief? Dad had been trying to prepare me, trying to delegate more and more village duties to me as I got older but…

I couldn't do it.

Eventually Gobber's reasoning won out, and we tried to make our escape off the doomed island. As the last living people of Berk, it was our duty to carry out the blood of the Hairy Hooligan tribe.

While the survivors had initially planned on sticking together, Bludvist caught on to our plans and had set his dragons on us, even as we were fleeing with our tails between our legs.

We had been a half-day's sail from the island when they struck. And as if the Gods themselves wanted to see our people wiped from the face of the earth, a storm rolled in. In the chaos, our boats were separated.

My boat… was capsized. I honestly thought that I was going to die. The last thing I remember seeing of my tribe was Gobber's panicked face as I was tossed overboard by a wave, managing to surface in time to see the boat being swallowed by another. I can only assume everyone onboard drowned… including Gobber.

I clung to a crate for an entire day before I was washed ashore a deserted island.

I haven't seen a single member of my once proud tribe since. I've seen other Vikings, for sure. Passing boats stopping on my island to wait out a storm were the first to find me, thankfully they were of a tribe that was friendly with the Hooligans.

They had taken me back to their island to recover and get some good food in me. I initially had managed to get by with trapping the local wildlife for food, and by some stroke of luck my tiny island had a freshwater spring on it. And thankfully, very few dragons.

I stayed with the tribe for a few months, but I couldn't live there. The village, while more than happy to have me as the son of the Chief of a prominent fellow tribe, and fairly calm despite the constant looming threat of Bludvist, was no Berk. It only stung wounds, ones that I doubt will heal for a long time.

I've struck up a trade as a hermit blacksmith, on my island. I made enough funds during my stay at the village that I was able to buy sufficient supplies to set up my own forge and living hut. I even have a boat that I use if I need to get new supplies, or make deliveries.

I had been content, really. Not happy… I doubt I'll ever be truly happy again after what's happened to my family and people, but I was content. I was making money, keeping myself busy, and alive. More than I could ask for.

It had been almost three whole years when… when it happened.

The day had started off normally, waking up, making myself food, starting the forge up again.

The calm morning had been split by a horrendous, awful screech. One I hadn't heard in what felt like ages, and it made my blood run cold. I instinctively ducked, as one always did in my village when they heard this sound.

A dark shape shot over the treeline, screaming all the way before cutting off suddenly, like it had run into something.

Common sense told me to stay away from it. Burning curiosity told me otherwise, and I ran towards the direction the dragon had fallen, my apron still tied around my waist.

I ran blindly, not knowing if I was running headlong into a furious and bloodthirsty dragon, or a dead one. I followed the trail of broken branches and snapped treetops, pine needles and leaves still raining down from the canopy.

Eventually I came up to the freshwater spring on my island. The spring was in a small cove that was deep set into the earth, the water pouring into a small pond from a waterfall that spouted out of the side of the cove.

At the far side of the cove in the morning shadows lay a crumpled black shape, marking the end of a large gouge in the earth that led to the shores of the pond. The water of the pond was still rippling and muddy from the impact.

As I stood there, the shape groaned, a long, pain-laden sound that tugged at my chest. No creature should have made such a sound. Unfurling its wings and crying out in distress, the dragon revealed itself.

_Night Fury._

The name rang in my mind, echoing off memories of long past days, standing on the inside of the forge and ducking with the whole village in unison as the unholy offspring of lightning and death screeched over our heads.

I watched numbly as the dragon took a few painful steps, wincing and testing its limbs. Nothing seemed to be broken, miraculously. It inspected itself, and even from here I could see fresh wounds on it, gashes caked in dirt from the cove floor. It looked like the Night Fury had been attacked by its kin, and had barely gotten away with its life.

As the dragon turned in my direction, I instinctively ducked down, not wanting a blast of fire in the face for just being in the same area as a Night Fury.

A Night Fury! I could hardly believe it. The one that had been attacking my village with the raids so long ago had suddenly disappeared one night, never returning to help demolish our homes and defenses.

We had taken it as a blessing from the Gods. We had thought - hoped - that the blasted creature had gotten itself killed somehow.

Perhaps it had. But perhaps it hadn't. The chances of this Night Fury being the same one that had helped raid our village was slim, but it was still an incredible thought.

And an angry one. As rage flooded through me, common sense was thrown to the wind as I stood up, the dragon spotting me and going on alert.

"Hey, You stupid dragon! This is _my_ island, go find your own to crash on! Get out of here, before I kill you and use your skin as decoration for my walls!" I spat at it, anger and pain and frustration roaring through my veins. How dare this demon show itself after so long! After I had managed to finally find some semblance of peace, this thing had arrived like a wraith of pain long buried.

I wasn't well equipped to fight a dragon right then and there, but I would have tried to kill that dragon with my bare hands had I the chance.

The dragon screamed at me, its large eyes slanting in anger and fear.

My sudden burst of adrenaline evaporated when the Night Fury charged at me, and I hit the dirt. My knees crumpled under me and I scrambled away from the edge of the cove, seeing black claws rake just where my toes had been.

But no furious dragon came over the lip of the cove, teeth bared and ready to bite off my face. What I did come was a angry, frustrated screech and the sound of claws scraping against rock.

I heard that sound a few more times as I sat on the mossy ground and tried to keep control of my bladder. The dragon let out one more angry roar before there was silence, and it took me a few dozen heartbeats before I was brave enough to wobble back over to the lip of the cove.

Curled against the rock directly underneath me was the Night Fury, licking its wounds clean. With my nose pressed to the ground, I peeked down at the dragon. In the morning light I could make out more of the dragons shape and details. Its scales were a midnight black, mottled with slightly lighter splotches of grey to break up its shape against the night sky.

The end of its tail was tipped with a set of fins - or at least what had been a set of fins. One of the fins was horribly injured, burned and gashed so badly that a few of the spines were missing, as well as most of the skin and flesh that stretched between the spines.

Putting two and two together, I figured that that was why I wasn't a smudge of blood on the grass - with the fin that damaged, the dragon couldn't fly. Ships couldn't sail without sails, of course.

I dared to inch closer to get a better look, and to my dismay I dislodged a pebble that clattered down and landed directly on top of the Night Fury's head.

The dragon jolted, looking straight up at me with slit pupils. I got an eyeful of the largest, brightest, _deepest_ green eyes I had ever seen before the eyes became slanted in anger, and I scrambled back out of sight before the first growl left the dragon's throat.

Stumbling to my feet I took off in the direction of my hut. Thoughts and memories raced through my head, ideas and possibilities welling up in my throat.

I hate dragons. I really do. They've been a constant in my life, a constant of death and pain and sadness.

But atop all that was a curiosity burning like I had never felt before, gliding atop the anger and the sadness like oil on water.

As I burst into my hut, I started searching. For what, I didn't even know till I had laid my eyes on it and was already reaching for it. Sketchbook in one hand, drawing charcoal in the other, my feet steered me back in the direction of the Night Fury almost on their own.

I couldn't describe the sensation that was welling in my chest. I still can't.

It was bright, and hot, and incredibly strong. It's still there, even hours later as I look back over my drawings and sketches of the Night Fury, taken from the safety of large boulders and trees that lined the edge of the cove.

I'd dare to call it a passion, almost. Something is telling me that… I need this dragon. I've needed it for a long time. And I don't know if it's my poor sense of judgement, or some prank from the gods, but I have a feeling that Night Fury needs me as well.

If Bludvist can ride dragons…

Why can't I?


	3. Weird Dragons and Rainy Days

_Kinda sat down and wrote this all out at once, so sorry for any typos/runons/grammar mistakes._

_Continuation of "Hard Times and New Chances". Crossposted to Tumblr._

* * *

It had been a few weeks since the Night Fury crash landed onto my island.

Thankfully, I am still alive. Most likely only due to the fact that the dragon was injured and trapped in a pit. If it wasn't, I'm sure I'd already be a smoking scorch mark on the earth.

As it was, the past week hasn't been easy. Not only was the dragon stuck in the one place I could get fresh water on my island - it was stopping me from taking baths.

I'm sure the dragon could smell me long before it saw me each time I went to the spring. I managed to circumvent the whole "having fresh water to drink" problem by dangling a bucket on a rope through the waterfall over the edge of the cove. I had been worried the dragon would try to jump at the bucket and pull me down, but the creature just watched me.

That's what it's been doing. Just watching me.

I've been visiting it frequently. From both curiosity and fear - making sure it hasn't slithered its way out of the cove and stalking me from the shadows for an easy meal.

The only way in and out of the cove is a small tunnel through some boulders that even I have a hard time squeezing through, so there was no way that Night Fury could squeeze through it as well - I hoped.

Either way, the first few days of the Night Fury being on my island was split between the creature roaring in anger at its predicament, and screaming in fury at me whenever it spotted me. I tried to keep out of sight, but that thing could spot a grain of sand in a haysack, I swear.

I'm guessing it eventually screamed itself hoarse, because when I awoke on the fourth day, it was silent. Eerily so - I had been getting used to it's cacophony in the background as I worked in my forge.

Naturally, I went to check on it - to see if it had keeled over and died.

It wasn't so, however. When I reached the cove I spotted the dragon staring into the cove's pond with an unwavering gaze - it remained motionless for quite a few moments before suddenly diving headfirst into the water.

After some flailing and frothing, the dragon hauled itself back to shore only to turn around and resume it's stance at the edge of the pond. A few more attempts, and the flicker of silver under the water, and I realized the Night Fury was fishing. Well, trying to.

It seemed the pond fish were too small or too fast, because time and time again the dragon came up empty-mouthed. But aside from a few angry bursts of flame at a nearby unfortunate rock, the dragon continued.

Watching the damned thing started to get me depressed. I left the dragon to its devices, the sound of splashes fading in the distance.

The thought of the dragon's attempts stuck with me though, throughout the whole day. Even as I worked on my latest commission - a set of axes for a nearby villages woodsman - I couldn't get the image of the Night Fury trying and failing over and over out of my head. The fact that it wasn't as all-powerful and amazing as the lore told just set me off-center.

After I finished the set of axes, I loaded them, and some other of my wares, up into my boat. I sailed to the closest island, a few hour's sail to a village named Shmell.

I delivered the axes and brought my wares to Shmell's market square, where I had a deal with a local to sell my smithing for me. I didn't have time to stick around and hawk my wares all day - and I wasn't comfortable doing so. I didn't like staying in towns too long - being around people unnerved me now.

Not to say I don't like people but - anyways. I was heading back to my boat when I passed one of the fishmongers along the docks. I'm not really one for fish, - I'll eat it but I prefer fowl - but a niggling thought struck me once again.

Before I knew it, I had bought a huge basket of fish, and was already heading back home.

The whole time home I berated myself for this horrible idea. I scolded myself as I tied off my boat and hauled the fish onshore. I cursed myself out the entire time I dragged the basked of fish towards the cove, and shook my head at myself as I tied ropes to the basket and lowered it into the cove.

The Night Fury was curled at the opposite end of the cove, having seemingly given up on it's failed fishing attempts for the day. Its head perked up and its bright green eyes watching me with what I could even call curiosity as I lowered the basket to the ground.

Just before it reached the ground, I tugged on the rope I had tied to the bottom of the basket, and upended the contents of the basket onto the grass.

I could hear the dragon's hungry swallow all the way from the top of the cove as I quickly pulled the empty basket back up. The Night Fury licked its scaly lips, and I watched fascinated as it trotted eagerly over to the pile of fish.

Kneeling at the edge of the cliff, I watched as the dragon snuffled at the pile a few times, poking and searching through it with a clawed foot. Seemingly satisfied, it started devouring the fish whole, snatching it up and swallowing it in a flash.

In no time at all the fish was gone, the dragon nosing the grass where it had once been. Just as I moved to stand up and walk away, the Night Fury suddenly sat down - and looked at me.

Looked right at me, its large green eyes searching mine with round pupils. The beast looked downright tame, sitting politely with its weird ear-flap-things perked upright, its head even tilted to the side almost cutely as an added effect.

It was _weird._

"I - I don't have any more." I found myself saying down to it.

The dragon lolled its head to the other side in a curious manner.

"I'm serious, I don't have any more!" I called down with a louder voice, reaching behind me and grabbing the empty basket, lifting it over the lip of the cove and dramatically showing its emptiness to the dragon.

The Night Fury tilted its head back to the other side, a questioning - and completely nonthreatening - croon lilting from its throat.

The dragon's manner was completely unsettling me. I'd never heard of a dragon using 'cute' tactics to lure in prey. It just felt wrong.

"I said, I don't have any more fish, you stupid dragon!" I yelled down at it, standing upright with balled fists.

The dragon's ear-flaps dropped in response, its eyes slanting warily as it took a few steps back.

I scoffed at it, waving an empty hand in the air before stalking off, muttering to myself about stupid dragons with their big round eyes.

Despite that encounter, I still kept visiting the dragon - and bringing it fish. I figured the damned thing couldn't hunt well enough on its own to feed itself - and for whatever reason, the thought of leaving it to starve left a sour taste in my throat. I just couldn't do it.

My father always said I wasn't a dragon-killer. I guess he was right.

Each time after I brought it fish - it seemed to like cod the most, but absolutely despised eels to the point it set the one I stuck into its basket aflame - the Night Fury would sit down, and stare at me.

I don't know why it did this. For all I know it could be hoping that I'd one day trip and fall off the cliff and end up as dragon dessert. But the creature would sit and watch me with its giant green eyes, crooning up at me questioningly.

Maybe it's as confused as I am as to why I keep feeding it. I can't figure out why myself for the life of me.

Its wounds seemed to be healing alright as well, for the most part. From what I could see, the small nicks and gashes healed alright but the beast's tail was still causing it grief. It also had a large slash along one side under its wing that I didn't like the look of - it was still large and red and angry, and the dragon moved gingerly like it ached.

It had been almost two weeks when it happened.

It had been a few rainy days, edging on stormy. I hadn't wanted to risk capsizing at sea, so I had been stuck indoors. Which wasn't an entirely bad thing, I was able to get some older projects done and finished and a few new ones started.

But that day had me on edge. I wasn't sure if it was the burgeoning storm, or if my instincts were telling me something. Because of the rain I hadn't been to see the Night Fury in a while - the path to the cove is steep in some spots, and gets really slick with mud. I didn't want to risk injuring myself over a dumb dragon.

But I couldn't keep calm. I was antsy, even more than normal. My thoughts kept flitting to the dragon, wondering if it was keeping dry, if it even needed to keep dry, whether it was hungry.

After I nearly broke my thumb under my hammer for the third time, I decided enough was enough. I grabbed my cloak and draped it over my head, hauled on my boots, and headed out into the rain.

The walk was treacherous. I slid more than once, nearly slipping face-first into a pine tree, but I managed to make it to the cove.

The rain poured in rivers over the lip of the cove, the pond level higher than normal. It was hard to see through the rain, but I eventually managed to make out a dark lump through the raindrops.

I sighed, thinking all was right. The dragon hadn't drowned itself. But as I stood there, I noticed that the lump of a dragon wasn't moving. And it was laid out in the open, not under shelter.

My heart lurched. I found my feet moving without thinking, and soon I was making my way not all too carefully through the tunnel to the cove, slipping and barely catching myself on a boulder and scraping my palm.

Boots squelching in the mud, I raced over to the Night Fury. Looking back, it was one of the stupidest things I've ever done. But none of that mattered when I splashed to my knees beside the dragon.

The dragon was unmoving, and barely breathing. Its eyes were squeezed shut, its face in a pained grimace.

My hand shook as I reached out and placed it gently on the dragon's head. The dragon barely registered my touch, its eyes squeezing shut tighter and a pained groan leaking out from its lips.

I slid my hand along the dragon's head, marveling at how the scales felt under my fingertips. Even through the rain, the scales had a supple, yet rough texture to them.

Then I realized how overly hot the dragon felt. Even through the rain, the dragon felt scorching hot, the water running off its body warm. And every few breaths, a shiver would ripple through the dragon.

My thoughts raced back to the Night Fury's wounds. Carefully, I felt along its body, carefully lifting its wing out of the way.

I easily spotted the gash - it was impossible to miss. It looked like it was attempting to heal, but it was puffy and weeping terribly. When I touched the scales around it, the dragon huffed out a deep, pained groan that made my chest ache.

My mind started to race. I knew how to deal with infections and fevers in humans, but dragons were beyond me. First thing I knew though, was that the wound needed to be cleaned.

Lifting the wing back out of the way, I scrambled to my feet. Despite my cloak, I was already soaked to the bone, but it hardly registered in my mind.

"I - I'll be right back." I stammered to the dragon, not knowing if it would even understand me.

When I didn't get a reply, not even a groan, I dashed off.

The trip back to my hut was difficult. The mud made it nearly impossible to climb back up some of the hills, and I had to take the long way around more than once after face-planting into the muck.

I was absolutely grungy when I burst into my home, but I ran right though, mind racing as I gathered the necessary items and stuffed them into a basket.

Slipping and sliding my way back to the dragon, I nearly took a dive over the edge of the cove, but I managed to get back in one piece.

Kneeling down again by the dragon's side, I started working methodically.

While the rain made it hard to work and keep things clean, I figured it was helping keep the dragon cool. I doubted a cold cloth on its head would do much to lower its fever.

Squinting at the wound in the low light, I gritted my teeth when I realized that the wound needed to be re-opened to be cleaned out. The dragon wouldn't like that.

After running my fingers through my soaked hair exasperatedly, I scooched back to the dragon's head and placed my hand near its eye.

This time the Night Fury managed to muster enough energy to barely peek its eye open and look at me, its pupil wide and diluted with pain.

My voice shook as I spoke. "L-look. This is - this is going to hurt. But I need you to trust me. And - and please don't eat me, okay? I'm trying to help."

The dragon kept my gaze for a few heartbeats, before closing its eye and slumping - in defeat or acceptance, I'm not sure.

But I took at as an okay.

I pulled out my knife - one of my sharpest and cleanest blades. I took a few deep breaths, lining the blade up and making a few false starts before biting my tongue and sinking the blade into the infected flesh.

The dragon let out a terrible groan, its whole body heaving with pain. I kept my hands firm on the dragon's side, continuing to work despite the danger.

The dragon clawed the mud beside me feebly, but not once made a move against me. It held its breath each time I pressed against its side, dabbing a rain-soaked cloth against its wound, cleaning away the blood and trying to draw out the pus and infection.

A few times I stood to gather some water from the pond to rinse out the wound, and each time I returned, the dragon draped its wing over me gently as I worked, almost as if it was sheltering me from the rain.

Once I felt the wound was as clean as I could make it, I took out my needle and threaded the deer sinew through it.

"I sure hope your scales aren't too tough for this." I chuckled dryly under my breath, and bit my lip as I pressed the needle into the dragon's flesh.

It was tough going, and I'm sure it hurt like hell, but aside from groans under its breath, the dragon never lashed out. The wound was fairly large, and it took quite a while, but I managed to close it off as well as I could.

Once I tied off the sinew, I sat back on my ankles and let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding.

The rain had lightened up slightly, and while the dragon was still hot to the touch, its breathing was easier.

All at once I realized how sore and tired I was. My hands were covered in dragon blood, and I knew I was probably covered in scratches and bruises from the climbs to and from the cove. it also felt like I had mud in every single crevice of my being.

But I was soaked, and once the rush started wearing off I started to feel very cold. Also, passing out beside a dragon was a extremely Not Good thing to do. Injured, barely conscious dragon or not.

So with my joints aching, I raised myself to my feet and gathered up what was left of my supplies.

I looked down at the Night Fury. It looked marginally better than before, its expression not as tortured as it had been.

I reached out, hesitating once before placing my bloodied hand on the dragon's head once more. This time, the dragon opened its eye immediately, its gaze flicking to meet mine.

I couldn't think of anything to say this time, a rarity. I just gazed back at the dragon, the two of us staring at each other silently as the rain fell about us.

I patted the dragon twice, with finality, before pulling back and shouldering my basket and heading back towards my home.

To this day, I'm certain the dragon made an appreciative warble just as I left the cove.


End file.
